There were homework woes that have not been displayed so outwardly in years.

I forgot how trying it could be.

Well, no. Not quite forgotten. I will never forget the struggles we have gone through.

It is more like I had hoped a milestone had been passed for good, but clearly no, that is not the case.

Life, is not really well known for being so simple, is it?

The frustration of feeling your child’s frustration is awful. I swear to you that I know this kid better than he knows himself. I know the way he is feeling. I know that I do. They are his feelings, though, so he must feel them. I try my best to help him help himself. I encourage. I monitor. I remind. I know.

I do all these things and yet I end up feeling like the enemy. I can do and I can know all these things, but I cannot experience his life. I cannot live it. I can’t make him understand these things anymore than someone could understand them for me. And you know what? That really stinks!

How frustrating for the frustrated to not understand that I understand.

It gets a bit tangled right about there. Hands tied. Deep breaths. Bite tongue. Walk away. Just for a little while. A minute or two. Go have some water. Figure out dinner. Make a plan. Check on his little sister. Let cooler heads prevail.

I am not a fan of all this sadness. It is draining.

I am totally exhausted right now. I feel like my day has been stolen. Everyone’s has. Everyone’s.

Not the way I prefer to end a week. Or start a week. What is Sunday? Is it the end or the beginning? I am too tired to choose. Does it even matter? (Now I have Semisonic’s “Closing Time” running through my head. You know? “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”)

It would be worse to maybe never feel it though. My empathy, I must believe, is a strength.

And yet.

Hoo boy! This day.

It feels like the Toddler phase is never-ending ’round here.

Alas, feelings are not facts. I say it. I believe it. I must apply it to myself.

Sorry if I scared the bajoopees out of those of you currently parenting Toddlers, earlier.

It really does get better. I promise. It does.

It’s just that, for me, today, I felt like all the steps forward were being outnumbered by all the steps back.

*Go ahead, fire away with all the things PSA could stand for. I meant Public Service Announcement, but I admit some pretty funny not so PG words also popped into my head. Meh. At least my sense of humour is still intact**.

**Full disclosure: It was hanging by a thread not too long ago and quite frankly is still a bit iffy***.

***When Thing 1 was teeny, he used to say “Iffy Daisy!” instead of “Oopsie Daisy!”, which was something we said a lot. Mostly, because we had a teeny Thing 1 who was busy dropping and spilling things.